Control

I aspire to be something more

When I’m just a human

As if a change of job and income will make me superhuman

More worthy of a better home, car, and mate

Less likely to masturbate

Less likely to be fake to please

Because I have the keys

Constant work distracting me from the facts of life

Creating my own strife

Because either way it happens

Keeping shit in both hands

Where it still smells, but I better understand

Creating problems of our own, and testing solutions

The young, blind leading the blind

Deep down, the sign why girls like old guys

Seen more, more wise

Packaging counts I know

But an ugo makes contrast I surmise

And he propably won't cheat if she's a hot